


Resting in Pieces

by PrussiaGillyBear



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Original Character Death(s), Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 21:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussiaGillyBear/pseuds/PrussiaGillyBear
Summary: This is a work I did back in November 2015 in my Sophomore year of high school. It started as a piece to practice describing places/things/etc... it sort of went dark really fast.





	Resting in Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Originally created November 5, 2015

Silence. Not a sound could be heard. There was no chirping of the crickets in the tall green grass. The leaves fell quietly off the Autumn trees, their colors now red, yellow, and orange. The crisp air was cold, almost bitter. The rabbits and squirrels were fast asleep in their burrows, the birds nestled in their nests. The sky was a mixture of dark blues and purples, only seeing the faintest hints of pitch black if one was to stare past the swirling pools of dark shades. Stars glittered over the beautiful lake that glistened in the pure white moonlight that shined from a half crescent. Bright lights twinkled on and off, flying over the field and through the woods. 

This was her favorite place to sit when she was upset. Whenever she felt alone, she would sit by the lake and take in the serene setting. A place like this only seemed to exist in one’s dreams. 

Crystal sighed, disrupting the silence. No one understood. Why could they not see she was happier now? Huffing, she crossed her arms. She had made the right decision. No one could change it, so why can they not accept reality? 

She looked down at the smooth pebbles at the edge of the calm lake. Not one was broken or cracked. How she wished she could throw at least one to satisfy her anger. But she could not. 

They were always crying. Her friends, her family, even people who she did not know very well and even people who were her enemies. It was strange to her. Why would they cry? Why could they not see she was happy? Why do some of them even care? 

Pushing a strand of her shoulder length auburn hair behind her left ear, she stood up, making her way over to a narrow dirt path. If one could see her, they would say that her milky white skin seemed to glow or that her steps seemed to not reach the ground. Finally, she made it to a set of iron gates with a sign that read: 

PEACHWOOD CEMETERY

“I’m back!” She yelled as she slowly made it back to her grave, her home. 

End.


End file.
